Asia.view

Reincarnation rules

But only if the Chinese Communist Party says so

LIKE many religious monuments around the world, the Yonghegong or “Lama Temple” in Beijing is both tourist trap and place of worship. First built in the late 17th century as a home for eunuchs from the imperial court, it became a palace for a future emperor and then a lamasery for monks from Tibet and Mongolia. Unlike many monasteries in Tibet itself, it survived the mass vandalism of the Cultural Revolution in the 1960s, thanks, says a prominent sign in the grounds, to the intervention of Zhou Enlai, Mao Zedong's long-serving prime minister.

On a muggy summer afternoon the car park is full of tour buses and the temple grounds swarm with Chinese and foreign tourists in shorts and T-shirts, fanning themselves, guzzling water and distractedly spinning prayer wheels. But in the shrines themselves the devout pray with real fervour. They are almost all Chinese. Like other religions, Tibetan Buddhism, and even its spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama, is gaining new adherents in China. In Tibet itself, there seems little sign that faith is weakening.

This helps explain “Order Number Five”, passed at a conference of the State Administration of Religious Affairs (SARA) in Beijing last month, and due to come into effect on September 1st. It covers “management measures for the reincarnation of living Buddhas in Tibetan Buddhism”. In this faith, some who have achieved enlightenment can opt to be reborn, to help those less blessed.

The most famous living Buddha is of course the Dalai Lama himself, but there are many others. India's former ambassador to Mongolia was a living Buddha from Ladakh. So is Arjia Rinpoche, the former abbot of a big monastery near Xining, the capital of China's Qinghai province (formerly part of Tibet), who defected to America in 1998.

Living Buddhas are typically identified in boyhood through a mixture of tests—familiarity with the late incarnation's belongings—and divination. Now the government wants to control the process, arrogating to itself the right to approve incarnations. Bizarrely, Order Number Five even provides for “living Buddha permits”, to be registered at SARA. Reincarnation, moreover, is banned in “cities with delineated districts”, which can only refer to Xining and Lhasa, the capital of what is now the “Tibet Autonomous Region” of China.

AFP

The government's odd meddling in religious affairs is not confined to Buddhism. One of China's chief disputes with the Vatican is over its refusal to allow the Pope the authority to appoint bishops. But its apparent determination to control religion in Tibet is especially intense, because Buddhism is so bound up with Tibetans' identity and nationalism.

Chinese spokesmen accuse the Dalai Lama, who has lived in exile in India since 1959, of engaging “in activities aimed at splitting the motherland” (ie, China). In fact, the Dalai Lama says that, unlike many Tibetans, he is ready to accept Chinese sovereignty in exchange for genuine autonomy. His representatives are engaged in drawn-out and seemingly aimless talks with the government. Leaders in Beijing seem to have decided that the best hope of quelling resistance to their rule is to wait for his death.

The government may even hope to install a Buddha of its own, as it tried with the second most senior figure in Tibetan Buddhism, the Panchen Lama. There are two rival Panchens. The boy recognised by the Dalai Lama is now 18, and apparently in Chinese detention.

The Dalai Lama has said he may not be reincarnated at all, or, if Tibet is not free, he may be reincarnated in exile. It seems unlikely that China could install a Tibetan leader who also commands the loyalty of Tibetans. And the death of the present Dalai Lama—a robust man, but in his 70s—would remove the most powerful force restraining Tibetans from violent resistance to Chinese rule. Of course, China could crush an armed uprising easily. But it might be a bloody business.